Page 34 of Tango (Hunt Brothers Search & Rescue #4)

Alice

“ T ucker? Tucker!” I scream his name, shaking him with one hand while I continue to apply pressure with the other. “No, no. You cannot die. God, please don’t take him!” Tears stream down my face. “Please bring him back to me,” I cry, cradling the man I’ve fallen helplessly in love with.

The door opens, so I frantically grab the gun and aim it straight ahead as I cling to Tucker’s limp body.

“Tucker?” A frantic voice calls out. Dylan.

“Over here!” I scream, dropping the gun. It clatters to the ground. But with the brothers here, I don’t need it.

Dylan comes into view, and his expression breaks. “No.” He sprints toward me and falls to his knees. Tango and Delta are right behind him, both dogs panting. Tango whimpers and sniffs Tucker’s hair. It breaks my heart into even more pieces.

He presses his fingers to Tucker’s neck.

“I tried, Dylan. I— Please tell me he’s okay.”

Bradyn and Elliot come into view, Nova, Bravo, and Echo with them. Their broken expressions are impossible for me to read. Because they can’t be thinking what they’re thinking right now.

He can’t be gone.

I cling to Tucker as Dylan looks over at them. “No pulse.”

“No!” I scream. “No!” That’s not possible. Nova rushes over and grips my arm, trying to pull me away from Tucker. “No. No. God, no.”

Dylan lays his brother flat and begins chest compressions while Riley reaches into the backpack he’s carrying and withdraws a packet. They shred Tucker’s shirt open, revealing the ugly wounds.

“Hier, Tango. Hier, Delta,” Elliot orders. Tango hesitates but obeys, lying down at Elliot’s side beside Delta and Echo.

Nova guides me away. “Come on. He’s in good hands now.”

“No. I can’t leave him.”

“Sweetie, come on.” Nova wraps her arms around me, and I collapse against her, shoulders shaking with the force of my sobs. Over her shoulder, I watch as Dylan performs CPR and Riley proceeds to pack Tucker’s wounds full of gauze.

That means he’s okay, right?

After all, they wouldn’t try to save a dead man, would they?

They would since he’s their brother. No pulse. Dylan said he had no pulse.

Oh, God, please don’t take him.

Ramiro groans and starts to sit up. Anger unlike anything I’ve ever experienced comes over me, and I push away from Nova, get to my feet, and cross over toward him. Bradyn and Elliot are already pulling him to his feet, but I don’t stop even as they hold him.

I rear my fist back and slam it into his chin.

“You did this!” I scream, then hit him again. My knuckles burn, but I reach for him again when strong arms come around my waist and pull me back.

“Alice, stop! He’s not worth it.” Riley hauls me back as Nova steps up between Ramiro and me. Tucker’s blood saturates Riley’s hands. And that crimson is all I can see. His blood. All over his brothers.

“If he dies, I will make you suffer,” I growl at Ramiro. “I promise, I will rip you apart with my bare hands. You will pay for what you’ve done!”

Riley drags me back toward Tucker. “Don’t focus on Ramiro. That jerk doesn’t need you.”

I can barely look at Tucker. He’s pale, his eyes shut, body jerking as Dylan continues chest compressions.

“Focus on Tucker. He needs you right now, okay? He needs you.”

Grief and fear strangle me, but with shaking hands, I reach down and take Tucker’s in mine. “God, please don’t let him die,” I whisper. “Please.”

“Medics are here!” A man yells as another man I don’t recognize rushes into the room alongside four paramedics pushing a gurney.

They rush to Tucker’s side, and Dylan withdraws. He places both hands on the back of his head after standing then just stares down at his twin.

“Make sure Dylan is okay.”

It was the last thing he asked—the only thing he asked of me.

Trembling, I pull away from Riley and move around the room to Dylan. He turns to me, tears in his eyes. Then, he wraps both arms around me and pulls me against his chest. His entire body is trembling as though it’s all he can do to keep himself on his feet.

His heart is racing beneath my ear.

“He’ll be okay,” I say, even though right now, I’m not so sure. “He has to be okay.”

The paramedics lower the gurney then lift and place him on top as they start to work, fitting him with an oxygen mask and opening a defibrillator pack. They attach the machine to his chest and shock him.

Tucker’s body jolts off the gurney, arching up as the electricity shoots through him.

I choke on a sob and bury my face against Dylan’s chest. His arms tighten around me.

“We got rhythm,” one calls out.

God, please.

“Let’s get him loaded.”

I pull away from Dylan as they raise the gurney and roll Tucker away.

“Go,” Dylan tells me. “Stay with him.”

Nodding, I follow the paramedics. My entire body feels numb as I move down the halls of a place I once knew so well it was practically a second home.

Three bodies have been covered with sheets in the hallway. I keep my gaze straight ahead, trying not to pay too much attention to the war zone as we move through it.

Frank Loyotta is waiting on the lower floor, talking to some police.

When he sees me, his gaze darkens. He offers me a single nod then moves away from the officer he’s talking to.

I glance behind me as he passes then see that the brothers and Nova have brought Ramiro out.

The man I thought was my closest friend wears a furious expression as he glares at me.

Wilbur Huck is kneeling on the pavement, cuffed beside Darren.

Darren looks from the gurney to me then grins. It’s all I can do not to rush over there and ram my boot into his face. But Riley is right—anger will do me no good. I need to be there for Tucker.

He’s all that matters.

“Here.” Dylan holds out a paper cup of coffee to me.

Even though I’m not sure I can stomach anything, I take it from him. Maybe doing something that feels relatively normal will pull me out of this immobile misery where I can’t do anything but wait. It’s the worst.

The doctor hasn’t been out since Tucker was wheeled into surgery, and none of the nurses will tell us anything.

Bradyn and Riley are lingering near the doors while Elliot and Nova are sitting down on my other side. Dylan’s been pacing, though now he takes a seat beside me, his own coffee in hand.

All of their dogs remain at their sides like shadows.

Except Tango.

He’s at my feet, his brown gaze trained on the doors leading to the back as though he knows that’s where Tucker is. Leaning down, I run my hand over the top of his large head. “I’m sorry, boy,” I whisper. He doesn’t even look up at me.

Sitting back in the chair, I close my eyes for a moment as the tears threaten all over again.

Four hours.

It’s been four hours since the ambulance arrived. Tucker crashed twice on the way here, and both times, I prayed harder than I ever have, begging God not to take him.

“Are you okay?” Dylan asks.

I open my eyes and sit forward then take a drink of the coffee. It has no taste as it slips down the back of my throat. “No.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

“How can you be sure?” I ask Dylan. “How can you—” I trail off, my chest aching.

“Tucker is the strongest man I’ve ever known,” Dylan tells me. “If anyone can pull through, it’s him.”

“He lost so much blood.” I stare down at my hands. Blood is still crusted to my upper wrists, but I did what I could to wash some of it off before taking a seat. I start picking at it now, trying to scrape the rest of the blood away.

Maybe then, it won’t feel so real.

Maybe if I’m clean, I can pretend everything is going to be okay.

“He’ll be okay.” Dylan reaches over and gently covers my hand.

I notice how his brothers watch us carefully, how surprised they seem at his gentle touch on my hand. But with everything going on, I shove that aside for later. “I love him, Dylan.” I whisper the words, almost afraid to say them out loud for fear of what will happen if he doesn’t survive.

I won’t just lose a friend.

Or someone I’ve come to adore.

I’ll be losing love.

My love.

“I know you do,” he replies softly.

“I’m so sorry. To all of you,” I add louder. “I brought you all into this. It’s my fault he’s back there.”

“It’s not your fault at all,” Nova says as she reaches over and takes my other hand. “The only one at fault is the one who pulled the trigger.”

“Darren,” I growl. “I want to kill him.”

“No matter how badly we all want that, vengeance belongs to God,” Elliot says as he crosses his arms. “And there is nothing we can dole out that can even come close to what He can do.”

“I know that. But—Tucker— We were so close to getting free. It was right there.”

The waiting room doors slide open, and Frank Loyotta walks in. His expression is hard, his eyes red. He takes his hat off and looks around. When he sees all of us sitting here, his hardened expression softens. “Any news?”

“Not yet,” Bradyn replies.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m so sorry.

I don’t even know what else to say. Ramiro told me everything before they hauled him away.

I can’t believe he would be capable of this.

I just—” He trails off and closes his eyes as a few tears slip free.

“I never would have thought him capable of anything like this,” Frank says again then turns to me.

“Alice, I’m so incredibly sorry for doubting your innocence. ”

“It’s okay,” I manage.

Frank nods once then continues toying with the hat in his hands. He’s nervous. Why is he nervous? “Can I—can I wait with you all?” he asks.

“Of course you can.” Elliot stands and clasps a hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Please join us. We can use all the prayer we can get right now.”

Frank visibly relaxes, taking a seat beside Elliot as he sits again.

The room descends into silence once again, with only the occasional faint ringing of a phone to keep us company.

Lord. I can’t even finish the thought because there are no new words to pray. I’ve already prayed them all. Closing my eyes, I bow my head and simply focus on Tucker. The way his eyes light up when he’s smiling.

The dimple barely visible beneath the thick stubble on his face.

Lord, please.

The doors slide open again, and a group of people rush inside. Ruth and Tommy Hunt come in first, heading straight for where we’re sitting. Ruth’s eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, her hair a mess. Tommy doesn’t look much better with his hair on end as though he’s been running his hands through it.

Lani is right behind them, her expression serious, eyes red from crying.

Riley’s wife, Jules, and Bradyn’s wife, Kennedy, are with her, walking on either side like pillars of strength for the youngest Hunt.

She doesn’t join the rest of us though—she splits off from Jules and Kennedy, heading toward the nurse’s station.

If anyone can get answers, it’s her.

The brothers embrace their wives—all of them letting the weight they’ve been holding falter just a bit when they wrap their arms around their spouses. I gently squeeze Dylan’s hand because, right now, we’re all each other has.

My heart aches, and the tears come again. It’s all I can do not to crumble into a puddle on the floor.

“Hey, sweetie,” Ruth says as she crosses over. Dylan releases me and stands, accepting a hug from his mother.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her.

“You listen to me.” Tommy kneels in front of me.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Alice. This wasn’t you.

Bradyn told us what you did when he called.

We know that you fought off Ramiro. That you were able to get pressure on Tucker’s—” His voice breaks.

“We know what you did for our son. This is, in no way, shape, or form, your fault. Okay, kiddo?”

But it feels like it is.

I close my eyes and hang my head low, doing what I can to breathe.

Tommy squeezes my hand again then stands.

I feel so cold.

“Hey, Ali.”

I open my eyes, surprised to see my dad kneeling in front of me, my mom in the seat Dylan was in moments ago. Seeing them brings tears, and I crumble. He brushes some of my hair behind my ear. I know he’s likely angry, looking at the bruises on my face, but he doesn’t ask about them.

The pain in my chest intensifies when I watch Lani turn toward us, a broken expression on her face, as I cling to my coffee cup like a lifeline. “He can’t die, Dad.”

“I know, honey.” When I wrap my arms around him, he pulls me into his familiar embrace. My mom gently rubs my shoulders. I hold on to them, the cup of coffee the only warmth I’m feeling.

“He coded on the operating table,” Lani tells us.

“Oh, God. No.” Ruth leans into Tommy, and he wraps his arms around her.

“They were able to reestablish rhythm, but he’s not out of the woods just yet,” she says. “We need to pray—hard. Because if Tucker is going to survive, he needs a miracle.”